


The Useless Cold

by shinyhappyfitsofrage



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Sad, Sad Sad, Season 2, Spitfire - Freeform, sorry this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyhappyfitsofrage/pseuds/shinyhappyfitsofrage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn’t realise how terrified, how horribly, truly, despicably terrified she is, until Wally puts a hand on her shoulder and the stillness of his hand contrasts brilliantly with her trembling bones.</p>
<p>Requested by anonymous for #14: Hey, I'm with you, okay? Always</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Useless Cold

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i havent been around
> 
> i cant keep anything straight

She doesn’t realise how terrified, how horribly, truly, despicably terrified she is, until Wally puts a hand on her shoulder and the stillness of his hand contrasts brilliantly with her trembling bones.

“I -” She starts and swallows, rubbing a hand over her face like she could wipe away the sudden surge of panic that overtook her the moment she stepped through the gently worn door frame and saw Nelson rise from his bed, stretching and yawning, and Wally’s boots lazily thrown against the couch and the magnets on the fridge they got from all of their favorite restaurants. The clock reads 2:29 and Artemis dreads the inevitable tick as the minute hand drags on. “I’m fine.”

He nods, and removes his hand, even though her lie is embarrassingly obvious and she is clearly not fine. She glances over at him. Hanging up his jacket on the coat rack, he runs a hand through his hair and smiles grimly, his eyes falling on the clock. “We’re back before 3 am. That’s an accomplishment. The lady next door had started to give me the stink eye every time I went to class. I think she thinks we’re crack addicts or spies or something.” Kicking off his shoes where he previously kicked off his boots, he heads for the fridge (unsurprisingly), rubbing Nelson’s head as he walks over. “Jesus _Christ_ I’m hungry. Do we have any of those meat pie things left over, because those are just about the single most genius food creation I have ever been blessed enough to eat. Like, pies are _amazing_ and meat is _amazing_ , but meat _in_ a pie? I don’t -”

“How are you so casual?” demands Artemis. There’s a tremor in her voice that she detests. “I _die_ tomorrow, Wally.”

His head is still in the fridge but she sees his body become still. “I was trying to keep it light,” he says evenly (his voice doesn’t shake, he isn’t shivering, and she loathes him in that moment as much as she loves him every other moment). “I was trying not to focus on it.”

“Focus -?” She lets out a breathy laugh, devoid completely of any real humor. “Whether or not we _focus_ on it, Wally, whether or not we spend the next fourteen hours talking about fucking meat pies or not, it doesn’t change the fact that at three o’ clock tomorrow I leave for Mount Justice and go on a mission that will lead to my _death_ -”

“Artemis, calm down,” he says, turning to look at her, and he sounds scared, but not of the glimmering gold and pink dawn that neither of them can escape but of her rigid spine and wild, anguished voice. He closes the frigid cautiously. “You’re not actually dying, remember? It’s a trick. We’ve practiced it thousands of times. Everything is going to be alright.”

“It _won’t_!” She shakes her head vehemently. She’s hyperventilating, some part of her notes, her breath coming in short gasps. Her eyes feel wet, but she’s too worked up to cry. “Tomorrow I will be _officially_ dead, and they’ll hold a vigil for me in the Cave afterwards, and they’ll erect one of those stupid hologram memorials, and Dick will have to tell my mom that I’m dead, and she’ll have to file for life insurance, and my social security number will be retired and will probably end up on the black market and some car thief will buy my number and parade around as me and -”

Hands on her shoulders. She opens her eyes (when did she close them?) and Wally is in front of her, crouched down slightly to look her in the eye. “Artemis, you’re freaking out.” His voice is calm and the feel of his calloused palms on her bones is firmly gentle. It only makes her feel worse, because here is another part of the lovely little apartment in Palo Alto that she is shoving into some shadowy corner, here is another person who only wants her to be happy that she’s slapping in the face. “It’s okay. It’s going to hard, yes, and a lot of people aren’t going to understand, but you are not going away forever. They’ll be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Are _you_?”

Of course they both know the answer to that, but neither of them responds. Wally winces with the impact but doesn’t move away, doesn’t shake and steel his gaze like he used to when he thought about her lying on a foreign beach surrounded by screaming and deceit. The past month, all he’s done is argue, wheedle, and beg for her to stay, and now that she is finally giving in, he’s suddenly the voice of reason. For once, he is the adult, and Artemis feels very much like letting him rock her to sleep, never to wake up. She takes a ragged breath, and the tears she had held back are suddenly flowing. Impulsively, she slams into Wally, pressing her face against his chest and letting out a sob. She’d wanted so badly to get back in the field, but she is sure now that it is not worth what she has to give up. Not at all.

“I’m just… I’m worried about my mom,” she chokes out. “She’s - you know, how… promise me you won’t - you’ll take care of her, okay?”

“‘Course.” She feels his answer, vibrating lowly through his chest, more than she hears it. He’s rubs her back rhythmically. “You are so brave. You’re so _good_. You are by far the most _good_ person I’ve ever met. You know that, right?”

She nods. She doesn’t really. She just is abruptly very tired, and she wants everything to be quiet and still like it is on the best nights, and she wants him to carry her up to bed. For a few moments it is quiet, and then, she says, haltingly, “I don’t want to go because of you.”

It’s a terrible thing to say, and in the morning Artemis wakes up and swallows back an apology that wouldn’t change anything, because of all the things to make him feel horrible and bad, that is probably one of the worst. But, because he is just too goddamn wonderful, he doesn’t react, seeming to understand this is a two am Artemis he is dealing with and not a rational, calm Artemis at full power. “I’ll be there,” he says, and there’s an intensity to his voice that wasn’t there before. “Hey,” he says, almost sharply, when she doesn’t respond. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

That’s the last thing she remembers before waking up, tangled in sheets that have been half-kicked onto the floor (he must have carried her up after all, and her heart swells with a desperate longing). Everything is not okay in the morning, but its far too late to make it better anyway, and she takes a breath and she moves on.


End file.
